


snowfall

by lcdysansa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BUT NOT ON EACH OTHER, Cheating, F/M, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, tis the damn season kinda vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcdysansa/pseuds/lcdysansa
Summary: But this, here, now, in this small warm bathtub, surrounded by bubbles, in the arms of the man she — yes, what? Loved? She almost snorts. Hardly. But him kissing her bare shoulder, touching her neck softly, his teeth grazing her delicate skin, she would not blame another girl for falling in love with him right at this moment.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	snowfall

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh yes, I did not plan on writing anything, to be honest, it just happened. There's cheating in this fic and if you don't like it, then please don't read it, you've been warned. 
> 
> To the people who love angst too, this is for you.

Looking outside the window, frozen snowflakes adorning the glass like a frame a picture, Sansa sighs contentedly and leans back into him. This situation was not at all what she pictured would happen once she’d set foot back into her hometown, not this fast at least. There is something so peaceful about snowfall in Winterfell, bringing back a thousand happy memories from childhood. She remembers one time, when Robb forced his younger siblings — he really only had to force fourteen-year-old Sansa, who only looked forward to reading a romantic book on the window seat of her bedroom while deliberately ignoring all of her other siblings — to run outside with him and have a snowball fight in the thickest snow storm they ever experienced. In the end, it turned out to be one of her favourite memories, despite and perhaps even because of the speech her mother had given the children afterwards.

But this, here, now, in this small warm bathtub, surrounded by bubbles, in the arms of the man she — yes, what? Loved? She almost snorts. Hardly. But him kissing her bare shoulder, touching her neck softly, his teeth grazing her delicate skin, she would not blame another girl for falling in love with him right at this moment. She had given up on loving Jon a while ago. Years ago, actually, and yet every time she returns to her hometown, she somehow finds herself in his arm, breathing him in, touching his hair, like he’s her salvation.

“What are you thinking about, Sans?“ he murmurs softly, trailing the scars on her leg, and she shudders.

“How I keep finding myself in this situation and this situation only. It’s like I’m an addict and you’re the one drug I keep returning to,“ she answers honestly because he would sense her lies, he almost always has been able to do so. Strange, how he could see through all of her fake little smiles back in high school, but when she told him she didn’t want or need him, he believed her. He accepted it. He let go of her hand and let her walk away, just like that.

Jon is silent for a moment, but doesn’t stop caressing her. Then, “I hope this is not one of those lines you write into your book because that was corny as hell, Sans.“ And she laughs, throwing back her head, she just laughs. “What makes you think I write about _you_?“ He’s silent again, but when he grabs her chin, slowly moving his fingers to touch her throat and kisses her deeply, pulling her into him, she thinks that might just be his way of proving her wrong, and she lets him.

________________________________

Two days later, Sansa is trying very _very_ hard not to snap at Arya for taking more than five minutes trying to figure out what kind of chips she wants to buy. She wonders what changed in her little sister’s life for her to take the decision of buying snacks so seriously. Like Bran would care. It would be simpler if Gendry was here. She’s about to lose control when she hears his voice, his laugh, loud and deep and rich and beautiful. She hasn’t called him back since that Thursday when she arrived back in Winterfell like she had promised him. He probably knew anyway that she wouldn’t. But it’s been two days and she’s staying for two more weeks and that could mean something. For him, for her.

But when she turns around the corner to ask him to maybe repeat all of the things he did to her body then, she collides with the cart and her smile freezes on her face. Jon’s face is what she imagines a mirror of her own, eyes widened and cheeks flushed as he looks at her in her baby blue winter coat, standing awkwardly in front of him and — _her_. Sansa has never seen her before, at least she thinks so. She certainly has never noticed her before. Her blonde long hair, her icy grey eyes, or the way she has her hands wrapped around Jon’s arms, smiling happily. She did not think it would sting like that, she can admit that to herself. And Arya, thank the Gods for Arya, peeks over her sister’s shoulder and grins.

“Jon, Val, it’s so good to see you guys again. It’s been a while,“ she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, meeting Jon in a grocery store with a beautiful woman by his side — another woman. The blonde — Val — smiles sweetly and says something to Arya, but Sansa can’t make it out. She’s looking at Jon all the while, and he at least has the decency to look uncomfortable. Good, she thinks and looks at Val again.

“I did not know Jon was dating someone,“ Sansa interrupts Arya, blinking innocently, and it’s so difficult to concentrate when all she hears is silence and uproar at the same time, when all she can think of is how he held her in her arms two days ago, 9 months ago, twelve months ago, sixteen months ago.

“I’m Val,“ she introduces herself, looking like she has absolutely no clue who is standing in front of her. Maybe she doesn’t. Sansa doesn’t know what annoys her more.

“That’s Sansa, Arya’s sister. You know, I told you about her. She’s a writer,“ Jon replies instead. He looks cautious and Sansa wants to slap him. She wants to lash out, hurt him, make him miserable, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t have the right, she knows. That annoys her even more.

“Right,“ Val continues smiling, and Sansa, who has never been a particularly violent person, wants to scratch her eyes out. She almost recoils at her thoughts. “You live in King’s Landing, don’t you? I heard the city is quite dirty and smelly, but at least the weather is nice, right? I’ve never been there, I love the north too much.“ And she glances up at Jon, resting her head on his shoulder. Wonderful.

“Yes, yes, we’ve been dating for six months now, though I’ve had my eye on him for much longer,“ Val continues when nobody answers. Sansa is almost embarrassed at how much she dislikes the woman in front of her. She wouldn’t, she thinks, not in King’s Landing, but here, standing next to Jon, things are different. She wants to leave and escape like she’s never wanted before. In this moment, she thinks, even her books wouldn’t be enough.

“Well, it was lovely, but I’m afraid we have to leave. Errands and such,“ and without waiting for a response, Sansa turns around, dragging Arya with her. “You didn’t have to be so rude, what is wrong with you?“ Arya snaps and breaks free from Sansa’s touch. She doesn’t say a single word until they’re both back in the car, Sansa sitting in front of the steering wheel and looking at the car parked in front of her. Arya is eying her curiously. “Again, what is wrong with you?“

“I slept with Jon.“

Her little sister snorts and leans back in her seat. “Breaking news. We all know you did. Did you two think you could hide it from us? When we both couldn’t find you at prom and then at New Year’s Eve, and do you want me to go on? Cause we all knew, and frankly, I thought you’d be over him by now and _also_ ,“ she points out, “you dated three guys since you left Winterfell, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised that —“ And before she can finish her slightly condescending speech, Sansa interrupts her again, “I slept with Jon _two days ago_.“

Silence.

Then —

“Holy shit,“ Arya whistles. “You didn’t.“

But one look from Sansa and she’s silent again. “I didn’t know obviously. I didn’t know he’s been seeing this girl for six months, and also he didn’t tell me. Which, you know, means all of this is his fault,“ she explains and tries very hard not to defend herself. She knows the blame isn’t on her. Arya, however, has a different opinion, and Sansa thinks she never disliked her sister more than at this particular moment. “Oh please, you’re so head over heels for him, I don’t think you would’ve cared. I thought there was nothing, you know, physical going on between you two ever since you left, but clearly I’ve been wrong. I did know that you still have feelings for him. Which you just proved.“

Sansa grits her teeth and starts the engine. Goddammit. “I don’t have feelings for Jon. It was purely physical. I’m angry that he didn’t tell me.“

“Why?“

“Because I wouldn’t have slept with him in the bathtub she probably uses once every weekend so that he can give her multiple orgasms before going to bed.“

“You’re so jealous, you’re already turning green,“ Arya smirks. She’s taking all of this far too lightly.

“I’m not jealous.“

“I know you would have still slept with him. It’s because you don’t care about her. And because you care about him. You would have back in high school, but since Robb died, you don’t particularly care about people’s feelings, especially people you don’t like, and that’s fine. Just don’t lie to yourself.“

“This has _nothing_ to do with Robb.“ They’re almost home, and suddenly Sansa regrets ever coming back here, even for the holidays. She should have stayed at her loft in King’s Landing, cursing the heat and wasting the nights by reading instead of focusing on her work.

“I’m just saying. It’s not easy. And you like Jon, so of course you’d react like this. Poor girl probably doesn’t know what she did to deserve the hate in your eyes.“ She’s laughing now. Sansa realises in this moment, Arya doesn’t particularly care either.

“She knew exactly who I was, I saw it in her face. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.“

“All I saw was Jon trying not to die right there. Damn,“ Arya opens the door of the car. “I really did not expect this from him. But I guess we all have our weaknesses.“ Sansa doesn’t know what to say to that and after bringing the groceries into the kitchen, she goes back into her old bedroom and hides underneath her blanket for the rest of the afternoon.

Jon is with someone, she realises at some point. It’s dark outside already, wind blowing, and she can hear the dogs barking outside. He is with someone and he has been for months now and when she appeared at his door on Thursday instead of going home first and greeting her parents, kissing him inside his kitchen and letting him carry her into the bathtub after doing all kinds of things to her on his bed, he was with someone, too. She doesn’t understand why it hurts so much, but it does.

“Hey,“ it’s Arya, opening the door to her room, moving silently until she sits on the edge of her bed. “Dinner’s almost ready. I told Mum and Dad you were doing something for work, so …“ She pauses awkwardly. “I’m sorry,“ she says then and she truly sounds like it.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect anything and neither did he. I feel sorry for the girl.“

“Val,“ Arya corrects her, grinning in the dark. “And you don’t. And that’s okay. I’m your evil little sister, you can say anything to me and I won’t blame you, you know.“ Almost instantly, Sansa feels lighter.

But at night, when she’s trying to sleep, she can’t stop thinking of Jon and the other woman. Jon and Sansa never dated, never made it official, but they cared about and for each other, and sometimes she catches herself thinking about what would have happened, how her life would be right now if she never agreed to go to the movies with Robb, especially when it was pouring like that. She told herself she needed the escape, the freedom more than she needed Jon. And it was fine, at the beginning. She studied, and read, and wrote, and forgot about everything else, especially home. Especially him. But when she returned for the first time two years later and he looked at her with those big eyes and soft smile, she didn’t stop herself. And then she ran again and again and again. She always keeps running, never stopping, never pausing. She feels bad for the wo— Val. She feels bad for Val. She probably doesn’t deserve this, Sansa’s hate and Jon’s unfaithfulness. But feeling feels so good, so satisfying sometimes that she doesn’t stop herself.

At two a.m., Sansa leaves the house and drives to Jon’s house. It’s impulsive and stupid, but she doesn’t know what else to do. And when he steps outside, the house is dark, she must be asleep, he looks tired.

“I’m sorry, Sans,“ he says and she flinches. She hates that nickname now, she realises. Almost as much as she hates him. He’s the only one who’s ever called her that, but she hates it now.

“What for? Cheating on your girlfriend or lying to me?“

“I believe that I don’t have to apologise for cheating on my girlfriend,“ he whispers the last words, “to anyone but my girlfriend, but I am sorry for lying to you. Though you never asked, so I didn’t think you cared.“

Sansa laughs quietly. “You’re an asshole.“

Jon just stares at her like it’s not news to him. For a brief moment, she wonders if she’s not the only girl he invites to his bed, but she banishes that thought. Not her problem.

“Things have changed since you left. You don’t know me, not anymore.“

“Is that an excuse? For cheating?“

“Why do you suddenly care?“

“I don’t,“ she says, but she catches the lie and he does, too. It’s so pathetic.

“What do you want me to say?“ he asks and steps closer. She can feel his body heat and she wants to cry. She wants to go back to bed and cry until she’s exhausted enough to fall asleep and not have any nightmares. More than that, she wants to hug him and bury her face in his chest and fall asleep in his arms while he’s stroking her hair. She wants the comfort only he can give to her and she hates herself for it.

“Coming here was a mistake. Just … answer me this, if I asked you to fuck me in the car in the middle of the forest, would you do it?“

He’s still staring at her, then he blinks. Once. Twice. “Yes.“

In this moment, something breaks inside her, but he’s not moving, not reacting, and she doesn’t understand how he’s not moving, when the crack was so loud, she’s sure even clueless Val hears it inside his — their — bedroom. “Goodnight, Jon,“ she whispers and turns around, walking to her car.

Looking up at the sky, she notices there is no longer peace in snowfall, not like when she was a child. There’s chaos.


End file.
